Chapter 19: Magnum Thrax

Pitch black.

Thrax groaned and tried to roll over. Strong arms held him fast. Female arms, but remarkably strong. He wriggled an arm loose and ran his fingers up to the face. Candy. She’d held him fast in the crash.

Likely saved his life. 

He patted her cheek. “Candy.”

No response. “Candy wake up.” Nothing.

He checked for a pulse.

Shit.

Androids don’t have pulses, he reminded himself. Nothing detectable, at least.

He could feel something furry clutched between her legs. The dog. Max.

There was a dull sensation in his leg. He reached down and peeled off a Healit pack from his calf. Felt the skin. Not a scratch. Fully healed. No bumps, ridges, scar tissue at all.

Healit was quality stuff.

He slowly peeled Candy’s arms off and sat up. Coughed.

There was dust in the air. Lots of it.

With a thought he activated his nanosuit’s night vision.

The cabin was a jumble. Some of the seats were distorted, disabled mid transformation. The androids and Kal were out cold, if not dead. Preservation systems? None looked injured. Regenerating?

“Darwin, report,” he commanded subvocally.

Nothing. The android intruder was not letting him speak. Maybe Kal could help with that. He leaned over to him. “Kal.”

Shook his shoulder.

“Eh?” said Kal with a start. He rubbed his forehead. “What happened?”

“Crash. Lost power.”

“Where are we? I can’t see anything.”

“The Megamall. Activate your night vision.”

“Oh yeah.”

Thrax looked into the front cabin. Ghatz had begun to stir.

Sang was gone.

His door was open. A soft breeze brought floating specks of dust drifting into the limo’s interior.

“How long was I out?” asked Ghatz, unbuckling his seat belts.
“No idea,” said Thrax. He unracked his rifle. “Just woke up myself. Sang’s gone.”

“What?” Ghatz looked at the empty drivers seat. “Get after him. What the hell’s with the androids?”

“They’re taking a little longer to recover from the impact. We’ve got faster nano-repair cycles,” said Kal. He unlocked the door latch and shoved it open. Unholstered a laser pistol and spun up the ribbed power ring.

“Hey, hold up,” warned Thrax. “Wait. Go together. Ready?” “Give the word, old man.”

Thrax and Kal stepped out of the vehicle on opposite sides, weapons at the ready. Thrax scanned the vast, cavernous room. They’d landed in a sumptuous woman’s clothing palace, decorated in Renaissance motifs. Even coated in a thin layer of dust and viewed in blown out green hues it was spectacular.

“Anything?” called Ghatz, crouched within the stricken limo. He clutched a nerve stimulator pistol tightly.

“Nothing,” said Thrax. “Nice statue.”

“Truly posh,” agreed Kal. “Replica of Trevi Fountain in Rome, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m not because I referenced my trivia database.”

“Darwin likes them.”

“Who?” asked Ghatz, climbing out. “The Romans.”

“He any help?”

Thrax contemplated whether he should tell his friend about the android. How it had seized control of Darwin. A tingle at the base of his spin suggested otherwise. He shook his head. “Offline.”

Kal bent down over a toppled rack of clothes. Felt the fabric. “Seems very well preserved.”

Blinding light.

The suits adjusted immediately and shifted to day vision.

Above them were orange blobs of light. Great chandeliers flickered and glowed, gaining steadily in brightness.

The room was even more impressive in natural light. Marble columns alternated with red marble walls and synthetic gold trim. Impressive roman statues were scattered about the floor on raised plinths. Animated images of long dead celebrities sashayed along the walls in flowing dresses. High up behind them there was a ragged hole the limo had created, dribbling dust.

A trickling noise gave Thrax a start.

Water began to flow into the shattered pool around the limo.

He raced back down and shut the doors.

“Curious,” said Kal, softly. “Fusion generators must still have juice. Our presence has reactivated the system.”

“Lot less dust than I would have expected.” “I don’t like this,” said Ghatz. “Look.”

He gestured towards a clutch of corpses piled before an escalator, desiccated and mummified. Their clothing and coiffed hair perfectly preserved.

Kal walked over. “The dry air seems to have preserved them.” He knelt down and touched the flowing blonde hair. Rubbed it between his fingers. “Ancients. Real ancients.”

“They were trying to get out. Looks like they rushed the stairs. Died.” Thrax looked down into the dimly lit lower level. The escalator was packed with gnarled bodies all the way down. He started to turn away when his peripheral vision caught sight of a figure standing in the dark below. He reflexively raised his rifle. Looked through the scope. Focused.

No one.

The figure was gone.

He lowered the weapon and looked again.

“Bullshiiiit.”

“What?” asked Kal.

“Thought I saw someone down there,” whispered Thrax. “Sang?”

He shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Music began to tinkle in the background.

“Christmas carols,” said Kal. “Father Christmas.”

Strings of tiny bright lights forming a celebratory holiday image flickered on along the south wall. Beneath them was a long, pristine art deco bar. Behind the counter gold and crystal glittered. Wine bottles silently rose up out of cooled underground vaults.

“Let’s find Sang and get out of here.”

“Wait.” Kal looked back at his footprints in the dust. They seemed to be fading. “Is it me or is there less dust?”

Thrax nodded. “There’s less dust.” “This place is waking up.”

Kal, dressed in slovenly camo pants and a stylish rabbit shirt from The Pleasurepit Gift Shop, shrugged. “At least you dandies are dressed for it.”

“I can feel a breeze.”

Cool air began to flow into the room from above. 

“Where the hell is Sang?” wondered Thrax aloud. Behind the Trevi Fountain replica was a wall. A great box like column that dominated the centre of the room of white and black marble. A patio lay in front of the fountain, thoroughly rearranged by the arrival of the limo.

Thrax gestured towards the centre. “Could be in there,” he suggested. “Or collapsed somewhere amongst the rows of clothing. Weird. Thought they’d made everything on demand.”

“Or down there,” remarked Kal, looking over at the wizened corpses packed into the escalator.

“Let’s look around here first,” suggested Thrax. “Spread out, sweep the place.”

“We should wait for the androids to recover,” objected Ghatz. “Arm up.” Ghatz walked around and unlocked the trunk. Eight-Oh-Nine’s magnificent armour suit lay within, beside weapons, ammo, and supplies. Ghatz ran his hands over them, then felt above the wheel well for something. He withdrew his hand quickly as Thrax drew close.

“What’s that you’ve got?” asked Thrax, curious.

“It’s nothing. Help me with the suit.” Ghatz took the front, Thrax the legs, and together they hefted it out. It was heavier than it looked. Two hundred pounds at least.

“Remember,” said Thrax, patting the helmet possessively, “this is mine by right of combat.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” snarled Ghatz. “As Guardian, I have priority. Only I have the education and skill necessary to operate a complicated piece of equipment like this.”

“It’s all automated. A five year old could work it.”

“Yeah? Well, at the end of the day, I’m the one in charge.”

“Fine,” said Thrax, disgusted. He pushed the suit into Ghatz’s grasping arms. “Take it. For all the good it will do you.”

Ghatz stuck his nose in the air. “I shall,” he asserted with the lameness of a preening twerp. At least, that’s the way Thrax saw it.

“You,” Ghatz snapped at Kal, “Help me get it on, yeah?”

“Do I have to?” asked Kal.

“That’s an order.”

Reluctantly, Kal stomped over. It proved surprisingly easy, as the suit altered itself to fit as Ghatz slipped inside.

Kal wiped his brow and stood back beside Thrax. “It’s all about knowing how to go about it. It helps you, if you let it. Good to know.”

Ghatz shifted about in the armoured shell. “Fits. But nothing is happening.”

“Aw,” said Thrax, folding his arms in front of his chest. He was beginning to enjoy this farce.

“Tech boy,” said Ghatz, “fix it.”

Kal opened up the helmet and examined the neural connections. Pressed the neural tap against Ghatz’s forehead. “Huh. How about that. It’s inert.” Kal shook his head sadly and turned away. As he did so, he gave Thrax a surreptitious wink.

Thrax snickered

Ghatz glared. “Shut up. This is no time for your juvenile envy.”

With difficulty Thrax restrained the urge to punch Ghatz, who then turned to Kal. “Well, don’t just stand there you idiots. Get this thing off me.”

A moment later they stuffed the bulky super suit back in the trunk.

Ghatz angrily yanked out a grenade bandolier and pulled it over his head. He tossed a bag of explosives and detonators to Kal, and another bandolier to Thrax.

“Whoa,” said Kal, looking into his bag of destructive goodies. “I don’t even know how to use these.”

“It’s a dead mall, Ghatz,” snorted Thrax. “Don’t be afraid of your own shadow.”

“I’m more afraid of blowing my own arm off, actually.”

Ghatz thrust an EMP Robotaser at Thrax, then holstered one for himself. “Be prepared, yeah? I’ll go left,” he said, and stalked off, weapon at ready.

Thrax hoped Ghatz would get eaten by something unpleasant. He motioned for Kal to go through the piles of clothes.

“I’ll take right. Back in a minute.”

“Yeah, fine, leave me here with all the dead bodies,” said Kal. “With enough firepower to blow myself to kingdom come. Off you go. Have fun.”

“I’ll send any sexy ghosts back,” said Thrax with a smile. “Hey, s’all good. I’m open to virtual relationships.”

Thrax headed off, stalking warily through rows of opulent finery. As he padded down plush red carpeting, he passed mirrored sheets which disconcertingly reflected him back wearing high end dresses. He did look good in the sheer strapless gown.

‘VENUS CALOON COLLECTION: WEAR THE IMPOSSIBLE, BE THE EYE OF THE SOCIAL STORM,’ blared a meme projector as he passed, straight into his brain.

Cylindrical design and fitting platforms lined the aisle to his left, abstract holographic generators spinning fabrics in space for review when he neared. Nano-sartor machines sparkled and spun in shimmering arcs, waiting to weave garments directly on the client in real time, the ultimate in customization.

****

Kal watched them go. In moments they were lost in the endless aisles.

“Watch out for salespeople,” Kal called out after them. “They can be very aggressive. This place is looks terribly overpriced.”

No response. “Hello?”

Out of voice range.

Kal didn’t want to raise his any louder. Probably bad given how spooky the place was. No telling what kind of synvirus infections or rogue military bots had taken refuge in the Megamall. Over the eons, horrific mutants, warped by radiation, enhanced and bent by symbiotic viruses bonding to their DNA and then enabled by powerful nanites flowing through their bloodstreams, could be anywhere and everywhere.

No use thinking about it. He’d rather be back in the car with the foxy androids. That

Jasmine was a real looker, he thought, remembering her plump, shapely thighs and how they curved ever so subtly into the knee before flaring gloriously into sleek calf muscles. Hers got his heart beating a little faster than any of the others. Perhaps it was the beginning of an unhealthy obsession. No time for such thoughts now, he reminded himself. Sang could be in trouble. Real trouble. He felt a wave of shame.

CRACK.

Kal whirled. Something by the escalator had snapped. Shifted. He raised his weapon and edged over slowly. Flicked on the weapon’s barrel mounted flashlight and played it around the body lined depths. Nothing.

He shrugged and went back.

Bending down, he started to rummage through the piles of impossibly expensive display clothes, chucking them this way and that.

A soothing disembodied voice began to speak as he touched each garment, detailing the design and features in scrupulous, evocative detail; pricing holograms popped up with buy buttons that gleamed enticingly.

“Versasse notch collar jacket, morphing tail and cuffs, self-cleaning with side seam pockets... Temptation sheath dress, psychic chromatophore coating, designed by Yves Godot, dynamic auto-adjusted fit...”

He tuned it out.

No sign of Sang. Where would he go? Why leave the group? It made no sense for him to wander off on his own. He wouldn’t even have left the vehicle without waking someone else. Unless it was urgent. Yet there was no sign of any imminent threat, no struggle, no trail of blood or even footprints outside his door.

Footprints.

He froze.

That was odd. He remembered not seeing any footprints. How did Sang get out without making them? He clambered to his feet and walked back towards the automobile. Shit. The water had risen in the pool. Ash now swirled along curling currents of water.

No way to tell now. They should have thought of that. CRACK.

There it was again. Like bone breaking. He peered intently at the escalator for the slightest sign of movement.

A faint howl rose up from the lower level. The air conditioning had created a breeze. “Hello?”

The wind must be shifting the bodies. Making the noise.

That was it.

CRACK.

That wasn’t it. “Sang?”

He dug into the bag of explosives and fingered a charge. He could place them on both sides of the escalator, hide a few in the pile of bodies, too. Anything that came up... blewie!

Kal took a step towards the escalator. Then another. One hand wrapped around his pistol, the other caressing an explosive in the bag.

“Anyone there?”

He let the challenge hang in the air.

“I’m armed. Come on out! I won’t warn you again.”

The only sound was the soft mournful rush of purified air. Kal began to relax.

Must have been his imagination. How silly he could be! Left alone, his mind was up to its old tricks. Spinning mad tales of threat and peril from the inner recesses of his lizard brain. Honestly, he let his paranoid tendencies get out of control too often. Had to be more disciplined in future. Stay under control. Rational.

With a chuckle he turned back towards the limo. Water sloshed against the wheel wells now.

Behind him, Kal heard flesh slap against marble.

Just his imagination running riot. Pulling his darkest nightmares out of his subconscious and inflicting them upon his conscious mind.

A scrape. Crackling and popping, like stiff tendons and disused joints.

Rustling of dried fabrics. Feet upon grit and dust.

Panic began to seize Kal. His heart was beating at a mile a minute. Kal started to turn his head, slowly, in the tiniest increments. He felt half paralyzed with fear.

A hiss.

Something was drawing closer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw just what he didn’t want to: the bodies of the rich, well dressed ancients were rising to their feet. Joints and tendons creaked in protest with every movement. There were only black sockets where eyes should have been. Lips were dried and pulled back over artificially whitened teeth.

Their arms rose up as one, reaching for him. A shapely corpse in a form fitting red evening gown with pink ruffles was only a few feet away.

Its clawed hand stretched outward towards his throat.

Kal couldn’t move. He felt like he was outside his own body watching events happen to someone else.

This was how he’d die. POUM!

The mummified hand exploded into a shower of dust and bone. Red reeled backward a moment, then swung at him with the other arm.

BAM! A second shot took her head off, blowing it into a thousand dried fragments, spraying Kal in debris. He watched as the long, lustrous hair, deprived of a head to adorn, toppled to the floor into an undignified lump.

“Run!” yelled Thrax from afar, raising up his weapon again and letting off two more shots. A pair of dead fashionistas shattered into brown clouds of dust. Their glittering gowns crumpled to the floor, settling over diamond studded six inch heels designed by Louis Vach.

Kal backed away from the oncoming horde, turned to run, only to find himself stopped short, face to face with a lovely, petite young woman wearing a radiant smile and chic, shimmering clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Animated makeup formed abstract patterns and danced over her smooth eyelids.

“Welcome,” she said cheerily, “to Heritage Liberty Luxury Megamall, the world’s most exclusive retro shopping palace. How can I help you?”

“Shit!” blurted Kal. He felt like he was having a heart attack. “Get out of the way!”

Too late. Clawed, gnarled hands seized him from behind. Horrific visages, faces as if freeze dried, peered over his shoulder and drew him close. Half a dozen more hands grabbed his bag, as if guided by a single intelligence, and ripped it away. A cluster of mummified zombies in chiffon-skirt sequined cocktail dresses gathered on his right, started to pry his fingers loose from his pistol.

He couldn’t bring it to bear.

“Oh, I see you are interested in the jewelry,” gushed the young lady, eyes wide, noticing the bracelets on the brown, brittle arms that held him. “You have wonderful taste.”

“I’ll buy it! So help me!” gasped Kal, struggling against thin but powerful limbs. “That’s the latest by Gigi Foo. The Immortal Lady GuGah has the only other pair.” Kal thrashed about, helplessly. “Get them off, lady!”

“We’re sorry,” replied the young woman, her face filled with empathy. Her eyes held such deep understanding Kal felt them connecting to his very soul. He forgot all about the mummizombies. “Our systems are currently experiencing technical difficulties. We will resume normal service shortly. Please stand by. Thank you for your understanding.”

Chapter 18: Magnum Thrax

Thrax strode to the abandoned, dust covered cannon and looked out the window at the square. The sleek weapon was undamaged. He wiped dust off the targeting array. Blank. Inactive. AI wiped or slumbering.

Behind him, Jez poked slumped figures with her rifle. One by one they deflated into shapeless bags of dust. She felt a rush each time.

“Snap, crackle, pop,” she snickered. “Like popping bubble wrap.”

The blue butterfly landed on her nose.

“Leave them alone,” Thrax ordered, annoyed. “These men were soldiers; they should be left to rest in peace.”

She ignored him.

Thrax sighed and turned back to the parking lot. Hefted his viewer plate and scanned the ruins. Half buried in ash were thousands of rusted metal lumps. Ground vehicles. The wrecks were scattered randomly towards the edges of the lot, but in orderly rows nearer the centre. A few were in perfect condition, gleaming in bright, candy colours, their chrome as shiny as the day they left the mega-manufacturing box. Testament to quality nanite maintenance systems running endless repair cycles.

Must be imports.

Thrax activated threat analysis. The plate throbbed gently. Crosshairs flickered. Dozens of possible minefields and energy signatures lit up. Too many to calculate or separate out into individual threat evaluations. Basically, the parking lot was bad news.

The far side was hemmed in by a wall of biobuildings, their broken and torn husks soaring almost a kilometer high. Windows gone. Millions of places to hide snipers and hunter killers. Place was a freakin’ deathtrap, just as the limo said.

Ghatz lowered his own scanner. He turned to Hercules: “I don’t like it.”

Hercules nodded. The butterfly had landed on his neck. A thin probe jabbed into his spine. Hercules blinked, then twitched. He raised up his pulse pistol and aimed it at Thrax.

At that moment, Jez jabbed the last mummified soldier in the groin. A bright light blinked behind the face mask.

It fell with a loud clunk on top of the table and emitted an odd, alarming noise. BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Booby-trap!” yelled Thrax. He threw himself out the front window just as Hercules fired. The bolt blew a hole in the wall.

Ghatz was mere seconds behind Thrax, leaping out the same window and landing awkwardly atop him.

Thrax shoved Ghatz off and lifted his head. Peered into the room.

The hulking android stood unsteadily in the middle of it. He seemed confused. Stunned. Jez ran past him with super human speed, respirovores pushed to the max.

She wasn’t fast enough.

BEEP BEP BIP BEEEEEEEEE

Thrax ducked.

A tremendous fireball burst outward, shattering the window frame, shredding the camouflage netting, and tossing Jez meters away, her black coat trailing flame. Balls of black smoke rolled into the sky, trailing thick, inky wisps.

Jez rolled rapidly, putting out the fire, and unfolded to a stop in a combat crouch. Smoke curled from her burnt jacket. Maintenance cycles in the high tech garment quickly repaired the damage. She got up and strode over to the two men as they clambered to their feet.

“Nice,” Thrax groused, dusting off his suit. “So much for the element of surprise.” Jez glared back. “You goaded me. Not my fault.” She grabbed a big charred ball at her feet and chucked it at Thrax.

He caught it on reflex and involuntarily shivered: it was Herc’s head.

“Give him a kiss,” snickered Jez, and she set off for the car. 

**** 

“What the hell?” exclaimed Kal, looking out at the smoke and flames. “Something’s gone wrong. Let’s pick them up.”

Kal leaned forward and shook Sang’s shoulder. “Sang! Hit it!”

Sang emerged from his meditative state and checked readings. “Still three life signs.” Sang checked the rear view mirror. “Whoa. Instant Urban Insurgency zombie horde, only one hundred yards away, everyone.”

“Don’t let them touch the car,” said Kal.

“Not a chance.” Sang flipped a panel up and hit an exposed switch. The turret mounted Bofors guns swiveled to life, locked on the horde and spat a thousand rounds of depleted uranium shells a minute at the nano-zombies, blasting then into dust. Coil mounted scoops stretched out from under the limo, latching on to metal debris, dissolving it and sucking up material for the onboard Drexlerbox to make replacement ammunition.

“Thrax!” Kal said into his mic. “You alright? Speak to me, choombata.”

“I’m good,” filtered back Thrax’s voice. “Tripped a booby-trap. Comin’ back.” “Hurry it up; we gotta roll.”

Thrax, Ghatz, and Jez raced around the corner and charged towards the car.

Kal slide back the sun roof and stuck his head out. “Run, you Death Zone celebrities!” The Bofors guns fell silent.

Kal glanced behind the limo. The zombies were obscured by clouds of smoke. He looked up and could see the red lights in the recesses of the buildings. Faint, shimmering red lines lead down from them and then snapped onto... the limo’s roof.

Kal felt his stomach tighten: the roof glowed red with laser targeting dots. A dozen split off and zipped towards Thrax, attracted by the combination of body heat and movement.

All at once the mystery gunners opened fire and the air crackled. Kal ducked back in and and locked the sun roof.

Depeleted uranium bullets peppered the ground, the car, everything. Ash and shrapnel spat into the air.

Kal cringed. It sounded like a hailstorm was hitting the roof. Fortunately, their aim was substandard. Most of the shots were going wide.

Sang popped the side doors. Bullets pulverized the faux fabric interior linings.

As Thrax dived the back of the limo, a bullet smacked into the back of his calf, splashing it with blood.

Ghatz leapt head first into the front seat and was shoved into Sang by a frantic Jez; she quickly reached out, snagged the door handle, and slammed it shut as a nanozombie rushed up and raked the window with knife sharp claws. Seconds later stray bullets from above cut it to pieces.

“Go! Go! Go!” screamed Jez, seized by panic.

The deluge of lead made the roof bubble inward, yet the hull defenses held. It was one well built car, thought Kal, impressed.

“Oh, my poor baby,” said Sang, rubbing the dash. “Hold on! Hold on!”

Zombies closed in regardlesss, totally focused on the vehicle and its juicy living occupants. They got shot to bits by the hundred.

“Hit it!” screamed Jez, grabbing Sang by the throat. “Hit it now!!! Squad, suppression fire! Fire, you stupid cows!”

A steady barrage of lasers blasts shot out in all directions from the cabin, through the windows, which let the energy pass out of the car without interference, but still blocked incoming ordnance.

Sang put the pedal to the metal. The car bolted forward, a tail of roiling ash clouds following. It swerved between corroding vehicles, cutting corners too tightly, sending wrecks spinning and burning and throwing glowing sparks. Warning lights flashed as Sang drew too close to an identified mine. He angled away and accelerated just as several mines went off. Huge chunks of metal and diamacrete were blown skyward but the car was unscathed.

From distant towers high above, energy beams lanced out, slicing holes in the top of the limo. Beams sliced through the androids, leaving several with flesh wounds. One long burst hit Jasmine in the leg, neatly slicing it off. She let out a horrific scream of agony and clutched the stump. The ceiling holes bubbled shut. The surface adapted to the beams, rendering them ineffective.

Candy quickly grabbed the severed limb, pulled out a Healit nanonutrient gelpac and slapped it over the bloody stump. She angled the severed limb and lined it up with what remained attached to Jasmine, then pressed the two together. As nanite swarms began to knit the limbs, Jasmine writhed in agony.

“Turn off your pain receptors!” Candy shouted. Jasmine wasn’t listening. Candy dipped into her bag and pulled out an injection tube, then slammed it into Jasmine’s good leg.

Jasmine slipped into a blissful, protective, five-minute mini-coma.

“Activate the rocket jets!” ordered Kal.

“I can’t dodge at that speed,” protested Sang.

“Why the fuck are you driving then?” demanded Jez. “Let me drive!”

“Do it, Sang! I’ll help course correct!” said Kal, bringing up a slew of holographic interfaces.

Sang lit the engines and the car accelerated to an almost unmanageable speed.

A thought bomb burst below, but its targeting algorithms had not anticipated the target’s increased velocity. The limo was almost out of range of it when it detonated. Their minds filled momentarily with panic: ‘WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!’ Then it faded and was replaced by perfectly normal, natural panic.

Out of the wreckage below insectile hunter bots rose up, antimatter lances sparking on contact with air. Segmented, gleaming metal millipedes unfurled out of their nests and locked on the source of the commotion.

“Incoming!” yelled Kal, detecting them. “Unknown bots, floaters, crawlies, closing in. High speed.”

Thrax rolled about on the floor beside him, grasping at his shattered calf. Black lines began to spread from the wound.

“It’s a burrower bullet!” said Kal, alarmed, “Candy! Get it out fast!”

Candy slid over, grabbed and unsheathed Thrax’s knife, dug it into his leg, and opened up the wound. With her other hand she reached inside and yanked out a squriming black shell that had sprouted branching tendrils. They writhed in her hand, then wrapped around her wrist and began to dig into the flesh.

“Hold on.” Andromeda closed her fist and touched the wriggling shell with her EMP cereal prize ring. It sparked and the writhing tentacles fell lifeless.

“Get a pack on that,” said Andromeda, pointing at Thrax’s leg. “It will need material to rebuild.”

Thrax collapsed against the floor and was thrown back against Candy’s magnificently curvaceous legs as the car angled sharply upward. “Fix the damn dampeners!”

“Halfway there!” Sang shouted, hope rising. Sang could see a ring of red dots closing around the vehicle on the threat map. “Deploying wings. Firing afterburners!”

The limo flew off the ground and heaved awkwardly into the sky as gleaming legged tentacles crashed into each other below, metal and synthetics buckling.

“We’ll skim over the mall domes, use’em for cover. Buckle up!”

The team shook in their seats as the limo throbbed with power.

“Hang on!”

Lasers and electromagnetic railgun shells, propelled at supersonic speed, cut through the air. Explosions burst around them.

“I’m too beautiful for this shit!” exclaimed Kitty through chattering teeth, her features scrunched by g-forces.

Sable frowned. “I don’t see what that–” Her voice vibrated in unison with the shuddering vehicle frame.

The limo was tossed upward by an explosion’s expanding bubble of superheated air. Unsecured items and passengers were tossed aloft, momentarily freed from gravity. The vehicle snapped down again as it angled downward to evade an oncoming wave of air grenades.

The wreckage below was engulfed in flames.

Kal directed ECCM at incoming missiles, detonating dozens prematurely. “Counter fire! Take’em out! Give it all you got!”

“You heard the man; light’em up!” Thrax growled, priming his rifle. The androids faced outward, hefted their weapons and let loose with a barrage of defensive fire.

As the limo climbed up the battered side of the foremost dome, a missile missed by Kal closed in from behind.

Thumper tried to get a bead on it with her rifle, through the rear window. She let off several shots. They went wide. Aimed again. Missed.

The missile’s nose cone split apart, launching a dozen micromissiles. “Little help here!” yelled Thumper.

Andromeda dropped against the back seat, leveled her rifle and snapped off three expert shots, each hitting home. Three missiles gone.

Four!

“Brace!” Andromeda yelled, ducking down and covering her head.

Eight hit, sending cascading ripples of blue electrical energy flickering over the vehicle.

All systems went dead.

Sang’s heart sank. Despite all his meditation training, his voice rose in volume, “Lost control!”

“Do something!” screamed Jez.

“Systems down,” confirmed Kal. “Electromagnetic pulse.”

“We’re going down,” said Sang. “Everything is out.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” replied Kitty from in back. She racked her rifle, closed her eyes, and assumed crash position. The others followed suit.

“Useless idiots!” growled Jez. “I could have ruled the world!”

Sang tried to angle the limo to skim the dome, and it almost worked. The car hit the grime encrusted surface and bounced, leaving a dent. Hit again, then burst through, plummeting with spinning fragments of reinforced synglass into the darkness of Liberty Megamall.

Gigantic, grinning faces of happy children and moms carved in the finest marble rushed up out of the darkness and vanished again. Girders passed by. Signage. Tattered banners. Cables. Christmas decorations. Mirrored partitions.

“This is it!” THOOM!

The limo hit a concrete wall, plowed through it into racks of expensive, preserved clothing and animatronic mannequins. Sparks arced as the limo skidded across a dusty marble floor and slammed into a huge fountain’s forlorn, ash filled pool.

Waves of dust and debris fell from the ceiling, caking the limo in what looked like freshly fallen snow.

Silence fell.

That's it for this week. If you like, please share. Get out the word of Thrax.

Chapter 17: Magnum Thrax and the Amusement Park of Doom

In the passenger cabin, Thrax and the androids swarmed Kal with congratulatory hugs and high fives.

“This is what it’s all about,” Kal gushed as Jasmine stuck her tongue in his flap like ear. She liked ears. “Oh yes! Adrenaline and blood rush. Oh, my lovely loins! Drinks on me!”

A sudden shift. They tilted back as one, stomachs in free fall, their feet leaving the floor before the invisible utility fog caught them and compensated.

Everyone scattered for their seats.

Kal leaned back and fought the urge to vomit.

Sang sent the limo skimming down a canyon lined by petrified buildings, slipping past wreckage and piled detritus of war. Heavy duty assault mechs with full weapon load outs, were half-embedded in petrified nano-goo. Their upper hulls were swiss cheese, peppered by hundreds of ragged holes. Rusted scout mechs lay ahead, lying sprawled in the ash, wrapped in the shadow of kilometer high buildings that blocked out the sun.

Sang hit the halogen headlights.

In the dim light Kal could make out macabre symbols to mad alien gods painted on the facades, many marred by rifts carved by black, terrorist goo. Rags hung from exposed wires, clusters of barrels and chairs lined the edges of the gaping interiors. Strange feelings washed over them as they flew down the street. Desire for shoes, electronics, exotic foods, knick knacks, and the latest model of vehicle. Every now and then a flash of anger and outrage, shrieks demanding mankind be destroyed, demands for social mobility, powerful urges to stay indoors.

A series of slogans and images flit through their heads:

“NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE WITH iGOD: YOUR PERSONAL APOTHEOSIS.”

“NARCISSUS TELOMERE TREATMENTS: STAY YOUNG. BE YOUNG. FOREVER.”

“YOUR WILL SHALL TRIUMPH WITH INDOMITABLETM SPORTS GEAR.” “FIND LIFE SOLUTIONS WITH TRANSHUMANITY UPGRADES.”

“MADONNA XXX, THE VIRGIN WHORE, IN CONCERT! ONLY THIS WEDNESDAY.

Kal grabbed his head, tried to push the blaring thoughts out of his head. He found he could shut them out if he just... pushed ‘down’ a part of his brain. That was the only way to describe it. Like you were going to the bathroom. “The city seems to have fallen into anarchy even before the large scale fighting began,” observed Kal. No one knew exactly how the collapse had happened. Mostly people thought it was because technology had simply run out of control.

“Must have been one hell of a doublefisted megacull,” muttered Thrax softly. “Someone living here?” pondered Ghatz.

Kal shook his head. “Not likely. Those are probably hundreds, even thousands of years old. Just preserved by autorepair cycles.” He gazed out at the ruins and a powerful sense of loss flooded over him. “Think of it. All those buildings were once teeming with people, all filled with hopes, dreams, loves. Millions of them. More than we’ve ever seen in our lives, more names than we could remember. All wiped away. Nothing but an empty shell left. Bones of diamond concrete.”

“Dick and Jane are dead, biatch,” said Kitty. “Get over it. They ain’t ever comin’ back.”

“I’m not so sure, choombata. Man your window,” ordered Thrax. “I have a bad feeling about the place. You’re smart Kal, but smarts aren’t wisdom. Ready your weapons. Watch the building floors, gaps, alley ways. Anywhere snipers could set up.”

“Agreed. Do it,” interjected Ghatz.

“You heard Our Glorious Leader,” said Jez, sulkily. “Watch ground level. Spots with limited fields of fire.”

“Smarts can be wisdom,” muttered Kal under his breath.

The team slipped into their combat positions; the interior filled with the sharp whine of fusion piles priming for action.

Pin searchlights on the limo’s flanks cast circles of light onto the diamacrete bones of the buildings as they blasted past.

Sections had been melted, warped, by rogue goo, then frozen in place as police-injected kill switches activated. Military grade, khaki nanoblobs were frozen in deadly embrace with black terror mounds composed of converted civilians and machinery.

Sang glanced at shimmering, floating readouts. “Hull integrity back up to eighty per cent. Material tanks down thirty per cent.”

“Watch the map,” said Ghatz. “Take Main Street going west.” He spun the hologram around, analyzing from multiple angles and distances.

“We should stay off the main streets,” replied Sang. With a snap of the wrists, he veered the limo down a barren side street.

“I told...” Ghatz stopped. “Fine. Agreed.”

Kal had nothing to add. They sat in silence, awed by the scarred and battered ruins around them. The tension built up and up. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Rather quiet in here,” whispered Kal. “Perhaps... too quiet.”

“It’s like a church,” said Thrax.

“Oh, please. What do you know of church, little man?” chided Jez.

“More than you.”

“Don’t be pathetic. My naughty nun outfit has a tungsten database chip. Whole sordid history of the church, Cadaver Synod, the lot. Should have worn that.”

“Bullshit.”

“Guys! I think I saw something,” called out Blossom. She adjusted her goggles.

“What?” asked Thrax.

“Lights. Like, red lights. Random patterns and stuff.”

“Nasties,” added Thumper.

“Yeah! I’m so sure!”

“Um. Could be targeting lasers?” mused Sable.

“I’ve seen them too,” added Kitty, placing her hands against the window, resting on her knees and shifting her buttocks into the air.

“Dreamer. Have not,” retorted Jasmine. “Or I would have.”

“Have so.”

Thrax waved them to be silent. “Okay. Keep an eye out, bots. At ready.” Kal checked the scan feed. There was a lot of interference.

“Widens up ahead,” observed Sang.

A column of sky lay ahead, the glorious colours of sunset slashed down through the black wall of tenebrous buildings.

“Slow down.” Ghatz checked the map. “It’s a parking lot. The Liberty Megamall of America is beyond. Last of its kind.”

“Oh. My. Gawd. I don’t believe it. Are you kidding me?!? Liberty Megamall is like the ultimate in on-site luxury shopping. Custom onsite manufacturing, radical immersive experience, and the most innovative, wicked hot product design anywhere in the world, or like, the entire freaking universe!” gushed Blossom. She was on the verge of completely freaking out. “I mean come on!”

“Way. Out.” said Jasmine, barely able to remain deadpan. She popped a memory mint and sucked on it contemplatively.

Even Sable smiled and nodded eagerly. “From what our archives say, they uploaded the consciousness of a thousand Italian fashion designers into their custom clothing AI. NeoBauhaus, Frontean, even Cinema-Aesthete theorists.”

Thumper wasn’t impressed. “Lame,” she sighed, and slipped on a pair of earphones.

“Their catalogue has one million different kinds of shoe designs,” added Candy, eyes aglow. “You guys, I bet samples are still in there.”

“That’s what they were fighting for, girl,” said Kitty. “Shoes?” replied Candy, confused.

“No, the nano-manufacturing capacity,” snarled Jez. “Stupid.” “Sssh.”

Ghatz pondered. “Wide open space. We’ll be a sitting duck.”

Thrax put a comforting hand on Sang’s shoulder. “Take us down to ground level. We can drive across the lot, use wreckage for cover.”

Ghatz slowly turned and glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m in charge here, yeah?”

“Oh. Sorry. Not.”

“Sit down. Sang, take us to ground level. Drive us across. Whisper mode.” Sang nodded. Grinned wryly but said nothing.

Thrax grumbled and buckled back into his seat. Kal gave him a wink, then looked out the window.

The limo slowly settled down onto the street, sending gusts of gritty ash blowing outward. The wheels deployed and the frame gave a slight bounce as it settled.

“Macroenhancers,” ordered Ghatz. The front windshield became a virtual display that zoomed in on the terrain before them. “Threat analysis.”

“No threats detected,” replied the onboard AI.

“Uh,” said Kal, tapping the back of the front seat, “I wouldn’t rely on that too much.” “Quiet,” snapped Ghatz. “Power signatures?”

“Six thousand three hundred and forty-seven, plus eight thousand nine hundred indeterminate readings I cannot get a fix on. Sophisticated masking technology seems to be in use. Military grade.”

“What I said,” breathed Kal. He made a face at Ghatz. The jerk was going to get everyone killed.

Thunder boomed and the maelstrom above them swirled with menace.

Sang turned, putting his arm over the seat, and looked at Kal. “Any advice?”

Finally! Someone showing some sense, thought Kal. He thought furiously. Nothing. “Drive fast.” Kal wasn’t always good under pressure.

Sang nodded and rubbed his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear. Give me a minute to warm up for it. A little meditation.”

“Oh Christ. Pathetic nonsense,” swore Jez contemptuously. “Om,” said Sang serenely.

“Actually,” interjected Sable, “Meditation has been found to have, um, profound impact on the human nervous system, not to mention happiness. Studies–”

“Stay here,” Thrax scooped up his viewer plate, a couple packets of nanocide, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. The air was crisp. Sharp. Odorless. There were no sounds other than the wind and creaking of settling buildings.

**** 

Thrax tromped over to the store front on the right. Ash dunes had blown in through gaps that had once been windows. Shelves held rusted lumps of unidentifiable product. Not nanite protected, thought Thrax, disappointed. Probably too cheap to spring for it. Discount store. He walked forward, around jumbled desks, and into the next section, just before the parking lot. His boots left perfect imprints in the soft ash.

Ghatz, Hercules, and Jez followed him in, sweeping the room with their weapons. “Relax,” said Thrax. “Nothing dangerous here.”
Jez smirked. “Famous last words. Won’t stake my life on it.”

Furniture had been piled up around street level windows, reinforced with sandbags. Humanoid combat robots lay slumped behind, built in weaponry hanging limp. Thrax dusted off one’s blank, jawless skull like face, flipped back the loose helmet dome, and peaked in. A blob of fused metal and brittle, dried and shredded gel. The bot’s neural net had been dissolved by airborne corrosive.

A section of the southern wall had been blown out and then blocked with garbage bins, concealing a sinister, insectile pulse cannon, covered in snowy dust. Camouflage nets hung in front.

Set on a heavy metal desk in the vast display room’s centre was a communication array, surrounded by seated, mummified figures in armoured biowarfare suits. Other bodies lay crumpled by the windows. Cans, rusted together, lay in stacks, piled with crates of ammunition. A portable fusion generator was attached by cables to the cannon.

They all paused at the sight of that. Thrax scanned it for radiation.

“S’okay, it’s inert,” he said, giving them the all clear. He activated his HappyTime filter just for a lark; the world morphed into a fairy tale castle, the corpses into vine wrapped statues having tea. Birds chirped and sparkling sunlight flooded the chamber. He sniffed fresh lilacs. He breathed deep.

Jez shot him a suspicious look. “You on something?”

“Good feelings,” smiled Thrax. He shut down the filter and grey gloom enveloped his senses once more. It was too dangerous to indulge in filters, too immature. And he had no stims, anyway. With a start he noticed a single, shimmering, turquoise butterfly that refused to vanish with the rest of the reality overlay, and stubbornly flit, carefree, about the room.

“A pity. We could have used one of these, yeah?” said Ghatz. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and stepped up to the figures. Then he paused. “Wait. No holes in their suits.

Don’t recognize their ranks or insignia. Rebels?”

Plastic playing cards on the table.

White gleaming shapes behind dusty faceplates.

“Dunno.” Thrax walked over and reached out. Wiped a faceplate clean. The suit gently crumpled into a pile at his touch. The bones inside had turned to dust.

They could make jello out of that, he thought idly.

Creepy.

**** 

In the limo’s back seat, Kitty got bored playing with her retro-PDA, and stuffed it in her black ammo bag, then started to drum her fingers on the armrest. She popped a bubble at Sable, who kept going on about ancient pre-post-modern fashion designers.

Dullsville. Who the hell would want a sexbot like that, Kitty wondered. So boring.

Kitty climbed over Thumper and Blossom to the rear seat row and peered out the tinted window. Red dots were multiplying in number deep within the buildings. They began to grow larger, approaching the windows and ledges.

“Uh, yo,” said Kitty, “I think we have a problem here. In case anyone cares.” “Sush,” said Kal testily. “I’m trying to map a path forward.”

“Well, excuse me, nerd boy.” Kitty tapped the window. “I think we have more immediate concerns than your PHD thesis.”

“Give Mr. Grammer a break, Kitty,” said Sable, folding her arms across her prodigious chest, which was packed within a prim shirt and tight vest. “He’s trying to keep us from getting killed going across.”

“Girl, we’re not going to live long enough to go across. Look!”

Red dots began to dance on the surface of the limo. Far behind them, down the main thoroughfare, undead ancients in tattered garments appeared, preserved by microscopic machine infections, they began to race towards the chariot at Olympic runner speeds, their teeth gnashing, eager to spread the nihilist synvirus that churned inside their skull cavity. Their eyes were shiny black orbs, and glistening, gritty black goo overflowed from their hungry, foul mouths.

Until next week. 

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